


Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary...

by lightning_troubadour



Category: Halloween Horror Nights at Universal Studios
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-12 12:03:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15994823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightning_troubadour/pseuds/lightning_troubadour
Summary: A short collection of  small drabbles from my rp tumblr shxttered-mirrxrs, detailing various significant moments in Mary's life.





	1. Rebirth

It was dark. So very, very dark. Mary panicked, realizing that she wasn’t wearing her work clothes. What is this? Some kind of old gown? Her bones ached, her muscles ached, everything hurt. She was scared, in pain, and alone.

There was fog everywhere, she could barely see a thing around her. “Hello?” Mary shouted into the fog, doing her best to stand up. What had happened to her? Last thing she remembered was being attacked by one of her employees, a young ex-con named Jonah Nicholson. She remembered being strangled, feeling the air being forced out of her lungs and falling into the blackness. But, where was she now? Had she died? Was this hell? She walked into the fog, very carefully stepping, keeping her eyes on the ground to ensure her own safety. She saw something in the distance and ran toward it.

It was a vanity stand, much like the one in her own apartment. She looked into the mirror, and, oh god, was that her face? She jumped back in horror and shrieked. Her skin, pale to begin with, was now deathly white, and though her vision was clear her eyes were now completely clouded over white, ringed with deep, dark circles. Her mouth dripped dark red blood, how was that possible without any wounds?

She slumped down at the vanity and sobbed. Why was this happening? Was this just a bad dream? Maybe she would wake up in the hospital in a few minutes, hurt, but okay, and things would all go back to normal.

But then, she heard a voice that seemed to call specifically to her, beckoning her in.

“Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary…”


	2. Rejection

Mary walked confidently down the street to meet with the psychiatric board, she was so close to finally achieving her goal and opening her phobia clinic. She could not wait to hear the fate of her venture. She had dressed sharply for the meeting, in a sleek black dress and coat, with heeled boots and her favorite red lipstick. If she couldn’t make the impression of a confident, intelligent professional in this, she didn’t know how else she could. She shivered a bit from the cold, but she didn’t mind said cold. The snow it brought with it was beautiful, in her opinion.

Upon her reception into the office, she was met by a board of men in proper suits and ties, ready to discuss. She mustered her strongest, most secure handshakes, just like she had learned, as she didn’t want to appear frail or fragile. She took a seat at the table in front of her, shoulders held high.  
“Thank you so much for meeting with me today, gentlemen,” she said optimistically, “I look forward to hearing your input on my project, it has been a passion of mine for a long time.”   
“Well, Dr. Agana,” the eldest man said, “We admire your confidence, however, I sincerely hope you weren’t looking forward to this news. Quite frankly, we find your proposition concerning at best, and we will not fund it.”   
“What?” Mary cried out, rising from the table. “Dr. Nelson, I really don’t see what the problem is.”   
“Doctor,” a younger, redheaded man said, “Your proposal of this clinic involves you forcing patients into their phobias to attempt to cure them. This has very little to no proof that it works.”   
“But, look at my research,” Mary added, “More than 75 percent of my trials have been successful!”   
“These are very rare cases, Dr. Agana,” the man replied, “Most patients of exposure therapy only get worse over time.”  
“Dr. O'Roark, please reconsider this,” Mary begged, “With your funding, my program could change lives!”  
“Ma'am, there is no guarantee that their lives will change for the better. We wish you the best of luck in the future, but we have another appointment just after yours,” Dr. Nelson said, “so we must ask you to leave.”   
“Just give me another chance, there is still more research I can do!” Mary cried out, desperate, “I can prove that my methods work, even more than I already have.”   
“Dr. Agana, please don’t make us call security. We wouldn’t want them messing up that pretty dress of yours.” Dr. Nelson said, concealing a smirk.

Mary grabbed her coat and stormed off, throwing it on in the hallway. How? How could this have happened? Six years worth of research into exposure therapy, six years of successful research into exposure therapy, and this is how she was rewarded? She had dedicated her life to this work, essentially to be told that she was on her own. She really always was on her own when it came to her work, she had maybe two friends at maximum besides her family members, no significant other, really no one to rely on but herself. And she would rely on herself once more. When her hard work prevailed, they’d regret this day. She knew they would.


	3. The Last Straw

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains references to domestic abuse, alcoholism, and child abuse. If this makes you uncomfortable, skip this chapter now!

Mary was seven years old on the last night she spent at her father's house. She played with her little brothers Michael and Peter, who were 5 and 3. Mary and Michael were building a castle of blocks, and Peter watched in awe before crying, "My turn! My turn!" as he picked up some leftover blocks and started to build a tower. The tower wasn't very sturdy, and was knocked over almost immediately when Peter went to reach for another block. He began to cry, and Mary stopped what she was doing to walk over to her baby brother.   
"Awh, it's okay, Petey. I'll help you build another tower," she said, placing a hand on his back.  
"Okay," Peter said, wiping his eyes of tears.

Just then, Mary's father came home. He was drunk, as he was so inclined to be after a hard day's work at the office. Mary's mother, Marie, came in from the kitchen, and softly said, "Hello, dear. I'll go heat up dinner for you, we were going to wait to eat but we weren't sure how long it would-"  
She was cut off by the man's drunken slurring, "Shut up, you think I care? Dinner should've been ready."   
"Dear, it already is," Marie protested, hoping that her husband wouldn't start a fight in front of the kids.   
"Well, where is it then?" Mary's father, Nathan, asked.  
"It's in the oven now," Marie softly replied, fearful of how her husband could be when he drank. 

"Daddy, daddy, daddy!" Peter said, running up to his father and clinging to his leg.   
"Get off me," Nathan shrugged, shaking his leg to rid it of the young boy. Mary quickly grabbed her brother by the hand, and Michael got in front of him. Mary was a smart little girl, and she knew that her father could be very mean whenever he slurred his words and couldn't stand properly. 

He staggered into the kitchen, and slumped down at the table, starting to eat his dinner. He didn't seem to like it much at all, because the three children could hear him screaming at their mother from the other room.   
Mary looked at her little brothers and whispered, "Go to your room, I'll clean up the blocks."  
Michael nodded and, taking Peter by the hand, exited the room and ran upstairs to their bedroom.  
Mary began quickly picking up as many blocks as she could and putting them in the fabric sack they came in, hoping she could get to her room before anything escalated.  
As this was going on, Nathan Agana stormed out of the kitchen, spitting and screaming, "You stupid bitch! What the hell's wrong with you, can't even make dinner right for your husband! You should be grateful that I even married you, you cow!"   
He tripped over a block Peter must have dropped, and he shouted obscenities until he locked eyes with his frightened daughter.   
"Mary Edith..." he growled.   
"I'm sorry, Daddy," Mary began, "I didn't see that block, honest."   
Nathan stood up and grabbed the little brunette by the wrist and said, "Mary Edith, what the hell is wrong with you? Do you want to fucking kill me?"  
"No, Daddy," Mary said, tears welling up in her eyes, "I'm sorry!"   
He slapped her hard across the face, knocking out her loose tooth as she fell to the ground. "You ungrateful little witch, I do everything to keep this roof over your head and you can't even keep this pig sty clean!"   
He raised his leg and kicked little Mary in the gut, as Marie ran in with a frying pan, having heard the commotion. She quickly raised it over her head and struck her husband hard on the head, then again. He fell to the ground unconcious, right next to his pained daughter.   
"Baby!" Marie cried out, cradling Mary in her arms, "Mary, baby, are you okay?"  
"I think so, Mommy," she said, in a lot of pain but standing strong.  
"Go to your room and get your things," Marie said, "We're leaving."   
"Where are we going, Mommy?" Mary asked her mother.  
"I don't know yet, baby, but we're going to go somewhere safe where he can't hurt us anymore." Marie assured her daughter. 

Mary ran to her room and packed her school bag with some clothes and her favorite doll, as she heard her mother telling her brothers to do the same. The four of them snuck out of the house and ran off into the night, looking for somewhere, anywhere, where they didn't have to worry about the menace of their father.


End file.
